Road to Rome

So...I spent three days in Barcelona after Paris. Very cool place with Gaudi architecture, great beaches and an awesome view of the city and coast from Montjuic. Plus, got to catch up with a former CMU student, Merry, which was a great bonus. I had been contemplating just doing a 4 month trip around Europe, since I was three weeks into the trip and just in Barcelona (after starting in London). But, pulled the trigger in Barcelona and decided to head around the world as planned. I think it is a good decision. (leave on Nov 10th from Berlin to Thailand...got a cheap first class ticket)

Traveling around the world meant moving on from Barcelona. I bought a 30 day bus pass from Eurolines, much cheaper than train, and got on a bus to Rome. The trip to Rome is about 24 hrs long...beautiful, but brutal for a guy like myself. They dont make buses for big people, at least not 6'5" people (guess that is why it is cheaper). Buses are interesting contraptions, filled with the local crowd no doubt. I sat next to a Sylvester Stallone look like, with diamond studded earing to match. He and I didnt really chat...he just nodded and said hey.

There is a deep curosity within passengers on the bus with what is happening on the road (unlike trains). Cars swerve in and out around the bus, busdrivers get mad, the bus stops at places for passenger to get food or use the restroom, people push and shove to find a seat. It is rather chaotic, and mind you these are first class buses (nothing like those found in central/south america or asia). And the road, the road is bumpy, filled with potholes and all sorts of interesting things.

I kinda like traveling by bus...i can't believe I just said that. It feels more real, more alive. The discomfort, the long, long journey. Life isn't always peaches and cream. Nothing better than a bus, a 24 hr bus to Rome to remind you of that. I think this is good, to be reminded of the thorns and thistles in life, that things are always "easy", that the road ahead is oftentimes filled with potholes and crazy busdrivers. How we function during these times is what matters? Can we still give thanks, even as my knees are in my chest? I don't know, I hope so...that is what I am trying to do.

Nuit Blanche in Paris

Every year, over 500,000 people gather in Paris for an all night party. Its called Nuit Blanche, an outdoor festival of sorts with all kinds of art installations, street acts, performances, etc....and it just so happened that I was in town when it took place this year. The atmosphere is electric with men, women and children lining the streets (eating, drinking, dancing). The many highlights include a hula dance performance (in france), gregorian chant at st. pauls, crazy jugglers, an airplane exhibit and an art installation called Station to Station.

I visited Station to Station around 2am in the morning, and probably stayed until 4am. It was located in a Catholic Church, close to the hostel where I was staying. It was an installation of four or five plasma TVs showing a variety of colors and blocks moving across the screen with various sounds echoing in the background. Funny that you could spend two hours watching colored blocks move across the screen, but it was memorizing.

I was sitting in a chair toward the back, close to an area where candles were being lit and prayers were being said for one of the saints. The church was beautiful and the candlelight gave the installation an interesting, illuminating dimension. I began to think of the irony (or planning) of this art piece in a Catholic Church. Station to Station, with the Catholic emphasis on the 14 stations of the cross, the final hours of Jesus, the passion. What a fitting piece for a fitting place.

I also began to realize the irony of my presence at this Station...a fitting title for a traveler like myself, moving from bus station to train station to airport to taxi to station. I began to ask myself, at what station was I? What station along the way to the cross most closely resembled where I was? I know that I have been crucified with Christ, but was I "falling", "meeting people", "being stripped". How was I dying, so that I might live?

These are questions that come up when you travel...they are questions that come up when you dont, but something about traveling, about being a pilgrim, about being in a church in a foreign land that reminds you of God's grandeur and plan in life...how He travelled from Station to Station for us. What a gift that God traveled so that we might be at home in Him.